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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26244877">One More Light</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperclipbutterfly/pseuds/Pandora'>Pandora (paperclipbutterfly)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Patches and Prongs [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Zootopia (2016)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>"Fine" is not a badge of honor, Angst, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Mental Health Issues, Suicide, Wakes &amp; Funerals, don't give up, say something, suicide aftermath, you are loved</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 05:14:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,571</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26244877</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperclipbutterfly/pseuds/Pandora</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Drs. Melanie Leuca and Vincent Buckner attend the funeral of a recently deceased colleague, together reflecting upon his untimely passing and the lasting impact it has made on them both. Each and every light that goes out is noticed... and is sorely missed.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Patches and Prongs [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1335736</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>One More Light</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey guys. September is Suicide Prevention Month. Been sitting on this one for a while. </p>
<p>Meet me at the end. &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>According to an old Pandiscian fable, once upon a time pandas’ fur was pure white. A death, and a subsequent funeral, was what gave them their black markings, for they smeared ashes over their eyes and upon their arms as they embraced each other in their mourning.</p>
<p>Melanie Leuca smoothed her black blazer and skirt again. Always black clothing, for a funeral. Even across continents, across cultures, it was the prevailing color of loss and grief. A nod to a light snuffed out in the dark.</p>
<p>Which was probably why Vincent Buckner’s tie of choice was so unsettling.</p>
<p>He never wore bright colors. Ever. Every article of clothing he owned was interchangeable, neutral enough that it could literally be matched with anything else in his wardrobe. But that tie wasn’t even wearable with a birthday suit. It was a patchwork monstrosity of assorted patterns, from paisley to houndstooth to pinstripe, each one clashing even more against the next all down the line. Oranges and yellows and greens and blues wove through the swatches. It was chaotic. It was atrocious.</p>
<p>And he was wearing it to a funeral.</p>
<p>Melanie exchanged glances with Sadie Catterson, the practice’s office assistant, as Vincent came down the hall from his office and into the waiting room. The bobcat’s mouth quirked and she put a paw to her face to stifle whatever expression was about to escape onto it.</p>
<p>The panda wrinkled her nose. “You cannot be serious.”</p>
<p>“Completely serious, in fact.” Vincent tipped his snout down for a heated glare over his glasses. “Problem?”</p>
<p>Melanie couldn’t help but take a step back from him and the horrible scowl he cast her way. She turned her eyes down and softened her tone as she asked, “Is it not disrespectful?”</p>
<p>“On the contrary. I think he’d have found it funny.”</p>
<p>“I mean to his kin, Vincent.”</p>
<p>“I don’t particularly care if they think it is. I’m not going for them.” He walked purposely past her toward the door. “And it <em>is</em> time to be going. Not a thing to be late for.”</p>
<p>“Yes, certainly not.” She slipped her bag over her arm, gave a small wave and thin smile to Sadie, then followed in his footsteps to the door. He held it open and she continued outside.</p>
<p>“Lock up and go home whenever you’re finished,” he said to Sadie as he looked at his watch. “I don’t anticipate we’ll be returning here afterward.”</p>
<p>“Of course,” she replied. Her whiskers twitched as he gave a curt nod and turned away. “Vincent?”</p>
<p>“<em>What</em>?”</p>
<p>His voice came at her sharp as a blade and she almost swallowed the question that had been burning on her tongue since she came into the office this morning. But it was a question that begged an answer.</p>
<p>“Are you all right?”</p>
<p>“Fine.” He gripped the handle tighter as he crossed the threshold. “Don’t ask me that again.”</p>
<p>The door closed and Sadie flattened her ears. She wouldn’t have the opportunity to ask him that again today, but she very much hoped that someone else would.</p><hr/>
<p>The car ride out to the boroughs was quiet except for the sound of the wind in the open cabin. Vincent’s silver Lynxus rode along smooth and fast until they were past the bridge over the bay. Once the country roads had the car moving along at a much slower pace, Melanie attempted to fill the awkward silence that had settled between them since the tiff in the waiting room.</p>
<p>“I did not mean to upset you with what I said, Vincent.”</p>
<p>“It’s fine.”</p>
<p>His voice was soft and expression neutral, but his ears drooped and hooves grasped the wheel tight enough to make marks. Even though his eyes remained focused on the road ahead, it seemed his mind was very far away.</p>
<p>She turned to watch the trees flying past her window. “If you say. I just thought it strange, but you know your friend better than me so—”</p>
<p>“Wouldn’t call him that,” Vincent corrected her evenly. “We’ve been colleagues for a long time, is all.”</p>
<p>“Oh.” She studied his face a moment and then asked, “How long is long time?”</p>
<p>Vincent pushed a loud breath through his teeth. “Lord, it must be… close to ten years now.”</p>
<p>“I see. This is much time to know someone.” Melanie tugged her ear. “I remember saw him help you, when you spoke at City Hall. I do not know him except from this. What was he like? He seemed to have a positive disposition.”</p>
<p>“He did. He worked mostly with kids and teenagers. Had a great sense of humor. He was good at making them smile.” He sighed. “He was a good doctor. A good mammal. One of the best.”</p>
<p>Melanie nodded. “A shame we lose him.”</p>
<p>“It is.” He paused, and added in a rough voice just at the edge of cracking, “It’s not something we talk about enough, is it? Not you and me in particular, just… all of us. Talk about it plenty with our patients, but never really each other.”</p>
<p>She blinked and pinned her ears flat. “How he dies, you mean?”</p>
<p>Vincent somehow gripped the wheel tighter.</p>
<p>Melanie frowned and shook her head. “No. Wonder if ever it can be discussed enough.” The car slowed even more, the trees giving way to an earthen clearing in front of a low, well-landscaped white building. “Maybe it is something you want to talk about n—?”</p>
<p>“We’re here.” He turned the engine off and quickly opened his door to step out. He came around to the passenger side to open Melanie’s and offered a stiff hoof down to her. “Watch your step. It’s muddy.”</p><hr/>
<p>Dr. Andrew Swift died on a Monday. He was survived by his wife, Beatrice, and his pet tortoise, Mario. He would be laid to rest in his family’s mausoleum in Haresburg out in Deerbrook County on Saturday. Today was Friday, the day of his wake and the last time that Vincent Buckner would see him.</p>
<p>The Warren &amp; Runn Funeral Home wasn’t a very large building; it only had two parlors. Dr. Swift’s service was held in the larger, and it was obvious why. There weren’t enough chairs to seat all of the mammals in attendance to pay their final respects. An extensive number of relatives, yes, but also many friends, colleagues, and even a few former patients. A young otter that Dr. Swift had been mentoring held only tenuous composure until he stepped beside the casket. He promptly fell apart after that and left before the service even began.</p>
<p>They met briefly with a few other doctors that Vincent knew and Melanie had heard of from consultations before making their way to Dr. Swift’s widow. Beatrice Swift stood primly at the corner of the parlor, back straight and expression stern as a soldier’s. She wore a perfectly fitted, navy-colored, two-piece suit and pearls, light brown fur brushed to shining. Her face barely changed as they approached.</p>
<p>“Bea.” Vincent stooped down to shake her paw, a gesture which neither of them held for long.</p>
<p>“Vincent.” She turned her nose up, tossing her ear back over her shoulder as she did so. “Out and about during a workday? I hope you’re not putting yourself out on my account.”</p>
<p>“I assure you I’m not.” His voice had a razor’s edge to it, but he managed to keep it level as he gestured behind at Melanie to step over. He said to her, “This is Beatrice Swift, Drew’s wife.”</p>
<p>“Melanie Leuca,” she said with an extra spoonful of sweetness in her voice to offset that which was missing from her companion’s. She bowed low over clasped paws and added, “We are very sad to lose him. Many condolences for you and your family.”</p>
<p>Beatrice seemed surprised but then pleased with the gesture and her face softened. “Thank you. I do appreciate it. It’s been… more difficult than I thought.”</p>
<p>Vincent snorted. “Imagine thinking the arrangement of a funeral wouldn’t be difficult.”</p>
<p>“I plan events for a living, so this has actually been the simplest of my tasks.” She met his remark with her own like they were crossing swords. “I meant more… everything else. The paperwork, figuring out what to do with his things, his records, his <em>pet</em>…”</p>
<p>“Mario is the thing I think would be simplest. Feed him. Done.”</p>
<p>“Quite.” Beatrice wrinkled her nose. “Well, I suppose he was simple in a way, though a hassle. I was able to donate him to a petting zoo out in Bunnyburrow yesterday.”</p>
<p>Vincent’s nostrils flared. “Drew loved that tortoise.”</p>
<p>“And I didn’t.” Beatrice crossed her arms. “Couldn’t stand him, actually. <em>Smelled</em>, always managed to be in the way somehow. Better to have him out of my fur than tearing up my garden for the next twenty years. Do you know how long those things live for?” She huffed. “Not my commitment.”</p>
<p>Vincent tipped his head up and away as he murmured, “One less thing to be committed to, I suppose.”</p>
<p>Melanie cleared her throat in an attempt to override what she perceived was a less than amicable exchange and added, “Can be difficult to continue on those things that are not your liking, even for someone you cared for very much, yes?”</p>
<p>Beatrice averted her eyes in the opposite direction from where Vincent was looking and said, “Yes, well… I’m not the pet type. And I thought that the zoo was a more charitable option. Better that than a butcher, which was the other alternative.” Her eyebrows knitted in a deep frown and she sighed. “I’m not trying to be monstrous. I do need to live once this all passes.”</p>
<p>The unpleasant conversation mercifully ended there as a beaver couple came up alongside Melanie. Beatrice turned to greet them and accept their sympathies. Vincent took his leave and Melanie followed awkwardly to the rows of chairs. He took one, she another, and there they sat quietly until the ermine priest began speaking.</p>
<p>The ceremony was fairly traditional, one that Vincent had experienced multiple times by this point in his life. The hymns, the homilies, all the consoling words far too familiar… and utterly devoid of meaning to him.</p>
<p>Melanie had stowed tissues in her purse before she left the office. She anticipated she might need them for herself, and thought it a possibility that Vincent might need them also… but he didn’t. His face may as well have been carved from a stone mountain for how impassive it was. While she did shed a few tears for this mammal that she barely knew, the reindeer who had known him for a decade seemed not to have any of his own to offer.</p>
<p>And hardly any words of his own, either. No eulogy nor condolences. Melanie had gestured her question to him when the pastor asked if anyone else had anything they wanted to say, but he only gave a subtle shake of his head and mouthed, “Later,” by way of explanation.</p>
<p>It would be right at the very end, after Drew’s widow had left to see to the accompanying reception and the parlor was silent as a… well, was silent. After there were no other mammals present but Melanie and the physical form that once held the soul of Dr. Andrew Swift. That was when Vincent finally rose from his chair.</p>
<p>“Stay here, please,” he said to Melanie as he walked purposely down the aisle to the casket. She nodded at his retreating figure and flattened her ears in concern.</p>
<p>The casket was small, but they usually were to him. Too small. Too small were the mammals in these boxes, and too young. It didn’t matter how old they were, they were always too young for this. Picture boards filled with scenes from Drew’s life were set on either side, all smiling faces. Captured moments from apparently happier times ushering in a future that would no longer have him in it.</p>
<p>Whoever arranged the body did good work, was Vincent’s initial thought as he stood beside the casket at last. The rusty brown hare was dressed in a sharp blue suit and light tie, laying in the usual pose with his paws folded neatly over his chest, a set of green prayer beads draped over them. It wouldn’t have been obvious how he died if Vincent didn’t already know, already pictured the loop around his neck. His fur was brushed straight and fluffy, not a single hair out of place. He looked… so unlike himself. No tweed jacket, no rumpled fur on his head, no tacky bowtie… no warm smile. The light that made Drew the fun and charismatic mammal he was had been smothered, and the shell left behind had been prepared to someone else’s standards.</p>
<p>Vincent held up his tie. “I told you I’d find occasion to wear it.”</p>
<p>No response. Not that he was expecting one, of course, but just… wishing for some snappy return, some retort and smart aleck grin. Wishing.</p>
<p>He frowned, nostrils flaring as he tipped his nose down to glare over his glasses. “You look ridiculous. Who chose that suit for you, anyway? Oh, never mind, I can guess. Got the last word in about your attire after all, didn’t she?”</p>
<p>God, the silence was blaring and it catapulted him from irritated to downright furious. He shouldn’t have been here, this shouldn’t have been happening, and all the <em>whys</em> were screaming in his brain until he was sure his skull would split right down the middle.</p>
<p>“You <em>idiot</em>,” he exploded quietly through his teeth. “You could have called me. I would have come. I did before, didn’t I?”</p>
<p>The stillness made his inner ear lurch. There should have been ear twitches and nose wiggles and all the little movements that he hadn’t known he would even recognize… all missing. Even his scent was gone, replaced with something uncompromisingly sterile. Wrong.</p>
<p>“Why didn’t you just call?”</p>
<p>And that was all he had left in him to say, not that the corpse that was once his colleague heard any of it.</p>
<p>The fury faltered, just the briefest break in the steady and selfish anger that had been holding his tenuous composure together, and that was all the time that was needed for the intrusive thoughts to start prying their way in. He knew as he stood there that his mind was doing that to him, try as he might to stop the machinations of that process. This tragedy began to bleed over every subsequent thought as he cycled through faces that he knew well and that he would want to see again (though he perhaps wouldn’t admit it out loud). Spinning like a pinwheel from Drew to Rebecca to Henry to Melanie… and then, inevitably, to him. Because Drew was among the best of them, and if he could do this to himself… any of them could. And if Vincent couldn’t see it well enough to stop it, what hope was there to stop it happening to any of the rest?</p>
<p>The answer was obvious.</p>
<p>He spun on the balls of his feet and stalked back to where Melanie sat. She rose slowly as he approached, exerting a protective wall of calm in front of her as though she were about to face a storm.</p>
<p>“Done,” he said, continuing past her and straight to the doors of the parlor. He tugged his tie out, the air suddenly stifling. He paused when he reached the exit and realized he was standing there alone. She wasn’t walking behind him, but toward the casket that he’d just left. “<em>Melanie.</em>”</p>
<p>“You are done,” she said in a voice that was even and firm, her stride remaining unbroken. “I am not.”</p>
<p>Melanie stood by the casket for a few minutes. It felt intrusive to watch her, but his curiosity demanded it. What did she have to say to this mammal she’d never known, never met?</p>
<p>More than him, it seemed. She put her paws together and bowed over the deceased jackrabbit, a gesture laden with deep respect. Whatever words she decided were adequate for this particular occasion were ones that Vincent didn’t understand. They came almost in song, sweetly and rhythmically in Pandarin, and when she was finished the bow deepened even further. She turned with the tiniest sniffle and walked back to where Vincent stood. She looked up at him with an air of challenge, and he was compelled to turn away.</p>
<p>“What was that all about, then?” he asked evenly.</p>
<p>“I say something wish I say sooner,” she replied in a similar tone. “Should have tell him thanks for when he helps at City Hall. This I never say, I say now. Hopefully it is understood somehow.”</p>
<p>Softly spoken and sincere, the frank admission stabbed at his insides like an icepick. Here he was with his focus entirely on his own internal unrest at what had happened; not once had he given a thought to how Melanie might be experiencing it. He’d assumed—again assumed, based on no evidence other than sheer confidence in the accuracy of his flawed beliefs—that she’d not be so affected, having barely known Drew at all. But didn’t that just show so clearly how every action, no matter how small, connected all the mammals of the world in some way? How the loss of one had lasting repercussions that rippled out and out and out so far that the eye could no longer see?</p>
<p>Vincent didn’t say any of this. Instead, he asked flatly, “I take it you’re done now, then?”</p>
<p>“Yes.” Her eyes remained unblinking, never averting from his face. “Are you certain you are?”</p>
<p>Vincent gave an abrupt about-face and headed for the exit, internally relieved to be leaving that room at last. “Very.”</p>
<p>The air outside was mercifully cool. He made a bee-line straight for his car as he tugged out his tie and collar to allow some of the pent-up heat to escape. There was a scent like stale cigarette smoke in his nostrils, burning his lungs… even the stiff breeze could not carry it away. It was only barely overridden by the smell of soil around the hedges as he reached his car and sat in the driver’s seat. He gripped the steering wheel and waited, every square inch of him ready to tear out of that lot the moment he could.</p>
<p>Not that Melanie seemed all that aware of this. Her pace was lackadaisical, unhurried steps taken toward him with no particular sense of urgency like he felt in his face and shoulders. Even when she’d reached the parking area and was within only a few paces of the car she paused and came no closer.</p>
<p>Vincent honked the horn, his impatience now reaching the boiling point. “Get in.”<br/>
<br/>
She shook her head. “No.”</p>
<p>“Melanie, I’m not joking. Let’s go.”</p>
<p>“I will not until you agree to say what troubles you.”</p>
<p>He scowled. “We just left a funeral. Isn’t that enough?”</p>
<p>“Plenty,” she said, and took a single step closer. She put her paw on the door. “But I think there is even more you do not say, and you make me worried. I will not continue back whole way in silence when so many words sit unspoken between your ears.”</p>
<p>She wasn’t wrong, and it wasn’t difficult to recognize how unfairly he’d been behaving since they left from the office. Apologies and explanations and nuanced intricacies swirled around his brain, a muddled churning of smoke and reflections, tangled as a box full of yarn. He didn’t even know where to begin unraveling it all.</p>
<p>“It’s… complicated,” he said, and his hooves unfurled themselves from the wheel. He leaned back against his chair and let the keys fall into the cupholder reluctantly. Melanie opened the door to sit down beside him at once.</p>
<p>“Then you talk,” she said, “and we will uncomplicate together.”</p>
<p>Vincent huffed a strained laugh and tilted his head back. The branches above swayed as the sunlight trickled in between the leaves. He breathed in the next fragrant breeze and let it out in a tense sigh.</p>
<p>“I don’t know as much as I probably should about all the burdens he was shouldering. Never asked, you know. Never occurred to me to ask. I just took whatever was offered in conversation, which was usually allusions to a slowly deteriorating marriage. That alone is sometimes reason enough, but I didn’t think it was enough to undo him. But then the widest smiles tend to hide the grimmest miseries.”</p>
<p>His throat burned as a smokey haze rose before his eyes. He took off his glasses and rubbed one eye wearily as he continued.</p>
<p>“He called me one night. At home. Unheard of, and it was so late something must have happened. Irritated as I was, I got myself dressed and drove out to this dive in Hyenahurst…”</p><hr/>
<p>It was very late—almost late enough to be considered early—when Vincent arrived at the pool hall. The scent of alcohol hung in the air and years of nicotine stuck in layers to the drab walls. Tables of varying sizes lined either side of the long room, and there at the farthest end was the simple bar which the hall’s owner tended. The bar itself was better kept than the rest of the room; the dark wood was polished and its metallic adornments shined. The liquor bottles were tastefully displayed. It was a small island of relative class in this otherwise roughshod establishment.</p>
<p>It was here that Andrew Swift sat in one of the high stools meant for smaller mammals, paws gripped around a tumbler full of amber liquid. He was in his usual unmatched yet somehow vaguely coordinated work clothes and tweed jacket. His bowtie had been undone, however, and his usually sharp brown eyes were dimmer than the hall itself. Vincent made a beeline straight through the ruckus, pulled over a larger and shorter stool for himself, and sat next to the hare.</p>
<p>“Here I am,” he announced, and stifled a yawn that was about to escape. He blinked a few times and added, “Could have called a little earlier, Drew. I was about to get in bed.”</p>
<p>“With anyone I know?”</p>
<p>The hare snickered into his drink glass as Vincent scowled. “You must be in a bad way to make such a tasteless joke.”</p>
<p>“Forgive me,” Drew said and turned a bleary-eyed smile toward him. “I like to imagine others are at least still getting some.”</p>
<p>“All I wanted to <em>get</em> tonight was some <em>sleep</em>.” Vincent drummed his hoof on the bar impatiently. “Well? Let’s have it.”</p>
<p>The smile dropped immediately. His ears fell behind him and he turned his face down to speak into his glass. “I lost one.”</p>
<p>“Oh.” Vincent’s ears also fell. He spun to the bar top and folded his arms over it. “I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>Drew nodded dully and tossed back the last of his drink before tapping the bar. The badger bartender came around, popped the cork off a bottle, and poured the tumbler half full. He raised his eyebrows at Vincent, the obvious question unspoken, but Vincent shook his head. The barkeep moved along to other patrons.</p>
<p>The hare reached for the glass, but too slowly. It was swiped from his paw before his fingers could wrap around it, and the reindeer drank the liquid within instead. He grimaced at the thimble-sized glass as he swallowed, the tiny amount of alcohol clearly not to his liking.</p>
<p>“<em>Blech</em>.” He set the tumbler back down where it came from. “What is this swill you’re drinking?”</p>
<p>“I think the brand actually is Swil.” Drew glared at Vincent then at the now empty glass. He put it to his lips anyway to pull the last few drops. “I’m a jackrabbit, Vincent. You think I’m going to suck down that paint-thinner you like to drink? The fumes alone would knock me flat on my tail.”</p>
<p>“Looks to me like that’s what you want.” Vincent popped a few peanuts from a bowl nearby into his mouth to chase the taste of the weak spirits with, though he knew that was a mistake. The desire to toss back something else intensified ten-fold. He moved on with conversation; at least he wouldn’t drink if he kept talking. “How many have you had?”</p>
<p>“One less than I was aiming for.”</p>
<p>Vincent snorted at the snipe, but softened his next words considerably. “I take it this was particularly unexpected.”</p>
<p>“Isn’t it always?”</p>
<p>“I don’t think so, no.”</p>
<p>“Well… then yes, to answer your non-question.” Drew pushed the glass away and rested his chin in his one paw while the other gestured obliquely. “It had all gone so well, I thought. Almost… textbook. And she was the one who said she was ready to stop seeing me. Isn’t that the eventual goal? I was glad for her. It wasn’t…” His voice cracked and his paw fell to the countertop. “Wasn’t supposed to end like this. With an urn down on Olive Street.”</p>
<p>Vincent leaned forward enough to catch Drew’s line of sight and said pointedly, “I hope I don’t have to tell you it’s not your fault.”</p>
<p>His face twisted in a horrible grimace. “Isn’t it? I agreed there didn’t seem to be a reason to continue our sessions. Was that wrong? Should I not have? It was at a point that appointments were little more than conversation. Barely even exercises or anything. Just chatting.”</p>
<p>Vincent kept his expression carefully neutral as he repeated, “…Chatting?”</p>
<p>“About daily events and things like applications for school, her portfolio,” Drew clarified, and a small smile tugged at his mouth. “She was passionate, so creative. Sharp, and witty, and vulgar sometimes and just… and just… just…”</p>
<p>His voice trailed and the bleary eyes took on a piercing inward focus that was searching and searching desperately over details Vincent had no intimate knowledge of but could still hazard a guess at. The hare put a paw to his mouth and clutched at his middle like he would be sick at any moment.</p>
<p>“Oh, <em>God</em>…”</p>
<p>“Don’t.” Vincent put his hoof to his shoulder, forced those terrified eyes up and locked with them. “Drew, <em>don’t</em>. Don’t do that to yourself.”</p>
<p>He shook his head in disbelief and dismay. “That’s it though, isn’t it? It was… that line, right? Vincent… I didn’t see it.”</p>
<p>“You never crossed it before.” The reindeer drew his hoof back and clenched it as he leaned his elbow on the countertop. “One never knows where that line is until it’s crossed, I’m afraid.”</p>
<p>Drew gave a sharp, derisive snort. “As if the great Vincent Buckner ever, in his entire career—”</p>
<p>“Once.” He gave a harsh grunt and grimace, opening his hooves with the palms facing upward as the hare stared at him incredulously. “It happens. We’re all still mammals, after all. If that girl elevated your relationship beyond a professional nature, that’s not your fault, either.”</p>
<p>Drew shook his head again. “I should have seen though… could have said something else… anything else but what I said… <em>anything</em>…”</p>
<p>He bowed his head over clenched fists as his words trailed off into half moans, not quite at the point of sobbing and not loud enough to attract unwanted attention from other patrons. Vincent patted his back lightly in commiseration.</p>
<p>“Not that you want to, I imagine, but I would suggest you go home and try to rest. Drink some water, sober up, go to sleep. It’s raw right now, but every day that passes will put more distance between yourself and what happened.” He paused, considering, and then added, “Think about making an appointment of your own, until you can put this behind you fully.”</p>
<p>Drew gave a low scoff. “No offense, Vincent, but… you’re not my type.”</p>
<p>Vincent dared a short laugh that was reciprocated, though tensely. “I’m not everyone’s cup of tea, I know. But then maybe Melanie instead. I think you’d find her approach fairly compatible with your own.” He rose from his seat and put his hoof gently on the hare’s shoulder. “Don’t let something like this ruin you. You have friends, family, other patients that need you to be at your best, right?”</p>
<p>Drew blinked blearily and nodded. He smiled a sad smile and started to fumble around at his tweed coat, attempting to dig his wallet out of his pocket with uncoordinated paws.</p>
<p>“Let me.” Vincent said, and dropped a few large bills on the bar. “I appropriated one of those drinks, after all. Only fair. Next time it can be your treat.”</p>
<p>“Right… next time, then.” The hare spun around and hopped down to the floor with much less precision than he thought that he was still capable of. He stumbled on the landing and had to take hold of the rung of the stool to keep his balance. A deep breath in through his nose seemed to re-inflate him; he straightened his jacket, lifted his limp ears higher, and even managed to stand fairly straight with the aid of the stool. If not for the somewhat droopy eyed expression on his face, he looked at least mostly like himself again.</p>
<p>Vincent gestured to the exit. “Why don’t I give you a lift?”</p>
<p>Drew shook his head very subtly, but it seemed even that was enough to throw his inner ear off. He put a paw to his head with a pained hiss. “Thanks, but I think I’ve kept you long enough. I’ll just call for a Zoober.”</p>
<p>“Then I’d appreciate a text when you’ve made it home.”</p>
<p>The hare gave a wry smirk. “Before or after the inevitable ass-chewing I’m looking forward to?”</p>
<p>“Before, if you don’t mind. What happens in your bedroom is absolutely nothing I want to be privy to.”</p>
<p>Drew blinked through the delayed reaction and then put his palm to his face like he’d been smacked. He laughed and laughed and laughed and when he managed to catch his breath said, “<em>God</em>, Vincent, what…?”</p>
<p>“Turnabout is fair play,” the reindeer said with a smirk of his own, then turned and headed toward the doors. He gave a wave over his shoulder as he said, “Goodnight, Drew.”</p>
<p>“Goodnight. And…” He lifted his paw in a half wave, but Vincent was already through the door so he just let it drop back at his side. “Thanks. Again.”</p><hr/>
<p>The trees overhead rustled in the soft breeze. Vincent trailed off toward the end of the memory and hadn’t said anything else for more than a minute, though he still seemed to be internally debating about it.</p>
<p>Melanie attempted to prod that process along with a benign question. “How long ago do you see him like this, Vincent?”</p>
<p>He shook his head, forehead puckered. “I don’t know… it’s been some time now. Maybe a month.”</p>
<p>“Long time since then, no? What reason he has to do this now may have nothing from that night.”</p>
<p>“I realize that, but… I can’t help but feel like that was the beginning. The day of the bullet isn’t always so recent, after all.”</p>
<p>She frowned. “You help as much you could.”</p>
<p>“I should have done more.”</p>
<p>It was difficult for Melanie to decide where to aim the discussion next. Perhaps if it were anyone else, and they were seated in one of their offices, it would come more naturally. As it was, her years of training were eluding her as she watched him deflate over the steering wheel, little by little thinning and aging before her eyes.</p>
<p>Then the moment passed and he drew himself back again, took a deep breath and puffed his chest as he put his hooves to the steering wheel. The motion was only slightly reassuring; his ears still drooped and the grimace that graced his forehead lingered. He gripped the wheel, and spoke next so softly it was difficult to hear him over the gentle breeze.</p>
<p>“You’ll tell me if you’re not okay, won’t you.”</p>
<p>It wasn’t really a question, but more of a statement, maybe even partially a plea.</p>
<p>“Yes.” She nodded once, hard. “Of course, yes.”</p>
<p>“And even if I’m the one that’s done it, you’ll say something to someone, right.”</p>
<p>“Yes. Even then.”</p>
<p>“Good.”</p>
<p>She paused and forced the words up and out of her throat before it closed on them. “And you will do this also, yes?”</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>He lifted the keychain from the cupholder and turned the key in the ignition. The engine revved only to stop again just a few seconds later.</p>
<p>Melanie cast a worried glance at him. “Vincent? Are you—?”</p>
<p>“No. I’m not. I’m really not.” Shaky hooves came up to misty eyes. “I’m… going to miss him.”</p>
<p>He was vaguely aware of the car door opening and closing, and then the driver’s side door opened. When he looked up Melanie reached out to clasp his hoof. Her expression was mixed, eyebrows knitted, eyes wide and concerned, muzzle attempting a neutral smile. The sun that filtered through the trees behind her made her white fur blaze in a halo of light.</p>
<p>“Come,” she said, and tugged his hoof gently to urge him to his feet. “No driving now. We will walk instead away from here, to where we can sit together. You will talk more, I will listen.”</p>
<p>His legs felt like they were made of lead, the weight of the day settling in them in an attempt to prevent any kind of movement away from this horrible occurrence. Another insistent tug pried his feet from the ground. One step, two, three, and the simple action of breathing became a silent inner mantra to quell the turmoil. To reattune to all the world around him and to be present in the welcome sensation of living.</p>
<p>“I, ah… think there may be a good deal to unpack, Mel,” Vincent said, a tight, strangled expression twisting his face.</p>
<p>“This does not matter to me.”</p>
<p>“It just might be a while. Brevity isn’t exactly my strong suit, you know. How long…?”</p>
<p>“As long as needed,” Melanie said, and rested her paw on his shoulder. A gentle but firm expression creased her forehead. The funeral parlor wasn’t even in sight anymore. “Until there is nothing left to say.”</p><hr/>
<p>The lack of obligations over the weekend would normally have been pleasant, but given the still churning inner tempest Vincent was itching for some bit of comradery, however small. Some reminder that this too would pass, the ache would fade, and the dismal present would give way to better days. That this would settle in its place in the past and there remain only a memory.</p>
<p>The normal routine of coming to work on Monday provided a welcome distraction. Challenges to occupy his mind, keep him busy and productive and focused on anything else but the skipping replay of that night at the bar.</p>
<p>Just after his last appointment had finished for the day, there came a gentle tapping at his office door. Vincent lifted his head from his computer screen; he knew the cadence of Melanie’s knock, and also that her schedule didn’t have her taking any appointments in the practice until tomorrow morning. What brought her there so late on a day she wasn’t working?</p>
<p>“Come on in, Mel,” he called and the door swung inward a crack. Melanie peeked her head in through the opening at first and gave him an assessing look before entering the room fully.</p>
<p>“So glad you do not leave yet,” she said as she approached his desk. She held a standard presentation portfolio in her paws. “Will you have few minutes for small discussion with me?”</p>
<p>He raised an eyebrow. “What about?”</p>
<p>“New course for N.I.T.E. I want to test.” Melanie held out the portfolio. “I very much would like your input on the content.”</p>
<p>“I see. Alright then.” Vincent accepted it from her and flipped the cover open. “Let’s have a look.”</p>
<p>He didn’t get much past the title and objective before his chest tightened, as did his hooves; the flimsy plastic binding creased in his grip. To his credit, he was able to make it through the syllabus before finally meeting her gaze. It was steeped in apology, as well as a generous amount of conviction.</p>
<p>“I think on this all weekend, Vincent,” she said, her eyes never wavering. “We take much time, as you say, to discuss with our patients. To inform and protect them, always such big focus. But we do not turn this discussion enough to each other. I think maybe we can more… just maybe once or twice a month, a session not for our patients. For us.”</p>
<p>The reindeer nodded and glanced back down at the pages, not so much reading as letting his eyes play absently over the words until he was certain his voice would not crack when he used it.</p>
<p>“Sound approach and logical syllabus,” he said evenly, and handed it back to her. He fiddled with his tie. “Taking additional proactive steps to mitigate another such occurrence is certainly preferable to the alternative, but… I know there are quite a few counselors who won’t participate. Who won’t ever admit they’re anything other than just… fine.”</p>
<p>“Maybe we change the conversation and make so not being fine also is okay. Even if only one would decide to join and say something would be… better.” Melanie turned the portfolio right side up and hugged it to her chest. “I think maybe if someone comes when they do not need it will make easier for someone to come who does. May prompt revelations, connections. May allow us as a group to help with a swift response…”</p>
<p>He must have made some kind of face—couldn’t be helped, really, given the timing. Melanie put her paws up to her mouth in horror, dropping the folder on the floor.</p>
<p>“Oh, no…” Her eyes were enormous, offsetting how tiny her voice was. “I am so sorry if I misspeak…”</p>
<p>It was just absurd enough for a light chuckle to escape Vincent’s throat. He shook his head and stood from his chair, then stepped around the side of the desk. He stooped to pick the file up again.</p>
<p>“It’s alright. And you know what? Call it that. I can think of worse legacies to have.” He handed it back to her and nodded. “Do it. Let this be the last time we lose a colleague… a friend… to something like this.”</p>
<p>Melanie’s paws shook around her work and she nodded up at him also, a mixed expression tinged with just the tiniest bit of satisfaction coming over her face. As he turned to return to his chair she turned to move toward the door, then paused just at the threshold.</p>
<p>“Will you come?” she asked and though she looked like she might turn to face him she stopped halfway, keeping her eyes trained on her shuffling feet. “Not always, but… maybe once in a little while?”</p>
<p>He attempted a smile. “I’m sure I can find time for a day or two a month… for this.”</p>
<p>The shuffling stopped. With a little spring on the balls of her feet she continued out into the hall. “Goodnight, Vincent.”</p>
<p>“Goodnight.”</p>
<p>In the split second before Melanie left, his eyes drifted away from her withdrawing figure and down to the drawer of his desk, a precursor to what was very obviously the next matter on his mind tonight. He spasmed when he realized, like waking from a falling dream.</p>
<p>“Mel, wait.” She popped her head back around the jam, eyebrows quirked in inquiry. Vincent was already halfway across the room. “Let me walk you out, please. I think I’d best end this day now before anything else… delays me.”</p>
<p>Her face brightened. “Of course. Happy to give you excuse to go home.”</p>
<p>“The most welcome of excuses, I assure you.”</p>
<p>Vincent forced a smile as he closed the door behind him, drowning out at last the sweet siren song that had been tempting him since the moment he stepped foot in his office that morning.</p><hr/>
<p>There was no liveliness in this place, nor color. In the dim, gray mist, the pool tables sat frozen mid-use, the players absent from the game as billiard balls rolled over the felt. Only there at the far end was there any light, wood that shined and a rainbow of glass bottles that glistened. A beacon that signaled Vincent to draw near.</p>
<p>And draw near, he did.</p>
<p>Though it seemed to take an eternity. Even though the light never wavered, never dimmed, it hardly got any closer, no matter how many steps he took toward it. It just remained this brick of technicolored radiance in the distance until he blinked, and then the glassy lacquered countertop was at once immediately in front of him. Vincent squinted at the sudden brilliance, his eyes watering. His gaping was interrupted by movement and a jovial—though echoey—voice that piped up beside him.</p>
<p>“The stools aren’t just for decoration, you know.”</p>
<p>Andrew Swift sat stiffly on one of said stools, his body turned to the side rather than facing the bar counter. His paws were clasped over the knee of the one leg he had crossed over the other, clothes a strange mix of the dark dress slacks and starched white shirt from a few days ago contrasting against the tweed jacket he had on. Most notably, no tie.</p>
<p>“Are you going to sit,” he continued with a smirk, “or have your knees finally given in?”</p>
<p>Vincent snorted. “At least I’m letting my body give up on me rather than the other way around.” He set down hard on the stool behind him with a deep scowl. “Went pretty far out of your way to avoid buying me a drink.”</p>
<p>Drew laughed softly. “Always so quick with the riposte. I’ll miss that.”</p>
<p>“You didn’t have to.”</p>
<p>The smirking expression on the hare’s face softened into a sad smile. He tilted his head to the side.</p>
<p>“You don’t mind if I borrow this back, do you?” He reached out and gave a quick yank. The obnoxious gag gift tie undid its own knot and came away in his paws. Vincent looked down and put a hoof to his neck in belated surprise; he didn’t even realize he had been wearing that. When he looked up again Drew’s eyebrows quirked in inquiry as he swung the tie back and forth.</p>
<p>Vincent gestured at it and said, “By all means.”</p>
<p>“Great.” Drew smiled. “It looks better on me anyway.”</p>
<p>The hare slipped the garish fabric around his neck and began the tedious process of tying it. One loop, two, three went around his paw as he continued.</p>
<p>“You look like you have a question for me.”</p>
<p><em>Just one?</em> What an understatement. Vincent’s questions were multiplying by the second, but if there would only be an opportunity for one, which was the one to even ask? Did the answer matter when it would change absolutely nothing? Did he even want to know the answers to such questions as “why?” and “was there anything anyone could have done?” Did he want to be burdened with that knowledge?</p>
<p>Instead, he asked, “Think maybe I could have that drink now?” as he reached over the counter toward the array of colorful bottles.</p>
<p>Around and around again, four loops, five. “Do you really think it wise to indulge that particular vice now?”</p>
<p>“The dead make fine company to share vices with.” Vincent plucked the cork from the shiny bottle he’d grabbed, took a long pull from it… but nothing came out. He held it out in mild confusion before setting it aside to choose another. “After all… who are you going to tell about it?”</p>
<p>Six. “Still not exactly the healthiest coping mechanism.”</p>
<p>“Says the mammal who wrapped a rope around his neck.”</p>
<p>Seven. “Everyone’s walking around with a rope around their necks, Vincent. Only difference is how fast they tie it.”</p>
<p>The reindeer was hardly paying proper attention anymore to the hare’s actions, his words hollowing out a cavernous space inside. But every bottle he put to his lips—though it felt full to heft—would not relinquish a single drop to help fill it with. They fell to the floor beneath him and there opened like a dam broken, pouring out their poison to drown him with. The flood had risen to his chest before he realized it and he turned to Drew with confusion and desperation. Drew cocked his head to the side, and it tilted over his shoulder far further than it should have.</p>
<p>“How fast are you tying yours?” he asked as he stood on the stool and tossed the ridiculously long end of the tie behind him. It slithered like a serpent up and up and up to the unseeable, unreachable ceiling. The loops slid up and started to tighten.</p>
<p>“There are much easier ways to go out.”</p>
<p>Before Vincent could blink the stool was kicked away, and it struck the floor with a resounding <em>crack</em> as sharp as a lightning strike…</p><hr/>
<p>Vincent snapped his eyes open. He lifted his head from the pillow and immediately regretted it, pressing his hoof to his temple. His mouth was dry as Sahara Square, and the tell-tale sound of a light hail pitter-pattering against the window hammered him with thirst all over again. The drowning sensation was beginning to fade, but the images from the nightmare remained… and likely would remain for far longer than he would have preferred.</p>
<p>He swung his legs out over the side of the bed and sat slumped for a minute, just focusing on his ragged breaths. Eventually he stood, grabbed up his long robe from the chair nearby, and walked out into the hallway as he donned it.</p>
<p>The trip downstairs to the kitchen passed in a blur, action without any thought behind it. His legs propelled him along, guided by sheer habit. How many bad nights did he wind up there with a bottle on the table and a glass in his hoof? So many. Too many.</p>
<p>And Vincent knew as he assumed this very position that if he spent just a minute thinking about it that the trend would become clear as the water in the ice flows. He wasn’t even attempting alternative methods anymore. Just continued to fall back on the comfortable, the familiar, the guaranteed. The enforceable dulling that would stop all the buzz in his brain and ensure calm and sleep.</p>
<p>The cork popped, and his ears flagged from the sound like it was a gunshot. The amber liquid poured halfway as usual, though the moderation here was irrelevant as another would likely follow. How many would there be tonight?</p>
<p>Vincent raised the glass to his lips. There was only the briefest hesitation at the end as his eyes wandered elsewhere and away from the drink with just the slightest bit of disgust. They fell on the table and the medley of items he’d left there. The contents of his pockets that he’d set down when he came home from work, his cell phone, the mail… and a memorial card.</p>
<p>The glass lowered. He reached out to slide the little plastic card toward him. There was a prayer behind the late Dr. Swift’s grinning face, words meant to instill a sense of solace but Vincent could draw no comfort from. The invocations of some thousand years gone mammals weren’t the sort of words that would do him a lick of good tonight.</p>
<p>Somehow the glass touched the table and he reached out again, this time for his cell phone. Automatic taps on its screen to unlock, recent calls, speed dial. He put the phone to his ear as the light pitter-pattering of the hail started to slow outside. It only rang twice.</p>
<p>&lt;Hello?&gt; came the groggy voice on the other end.</p>
<p>“Hey, Mel. I’m sorry to wake you.”</p>
<p>&lt;I am not woken,&gt; she lied, and barely muffled the ensuing yawn that followed. &lt;I am having late work tonight.&gt;</p>
<p>“It’s two in the morning.”</p>
<p>&lt;So I lose track.&gt; He could hear a little pout behind Melanie’s words. &lt;This is not new thing for me, I think you know already.&gt;</p>
<p>He gave a short, light snort. “If you say so.”</p>
<p>There was a pause, and then Melanie asked carefully, &lt;Still not a usual time we talk. Are you all right?&gt;</p>
<p>“I’ve been better,” he admitted, and propped up the memorial card against the mail. He ran his hoof around the glass rim absently. “Fairly certain I’m still processing what happened last week.”</p>
<p>&lt;This does not surprise me. Can take much time to process.&gt;</p>
<p>“Yes, of course.” Vincent paused and swirled his drink around in the glass as he searched for something that wouldn’t turn this into what would essentially be a middle-of-the-night therapy session. “Did I tell you the story about that stupid tie?”</p>
<p>&lt;No, not yet.&gt;</p>
<p>“Remind me tomorrow. It’s funny. I think you’ll laugh.”</p>
<p>&lt;Not now?&gt; He heard a stifled yawn. &lt;Would be good to have memory to laugh about, I think. Something happy to associate, rather than sad.&gt;</p>
<p>He grimaced. “Well… it’s rather lengthy. I don’t want to keep you that long, I just… I guess I was hoping to hear some voice other than my own for a few minutes. Break up the internal echoes.”</p>
<p>&lt;What else I can do to help with this?&gt;</p>
<p>“Nothing. Truly.” <em>Anything, please.</em> “I’ll let you go back to <em>not</em> sleeping.”</p>
<p>A pause. &lt;Do you also go back to not sleeping?&gt;</p>
<p>“Probably.” His eyes dropped to the glass and his frown deepened further. “Much as I’d like to go back to sleep, I doubt I’ll be successful.”</p>
<p>&lt;Ah, well, then this you can allow me to help you with.&gt;</p>
<p>Vincent perked his ears, curiosity piqued. “How?”</p>
<p>Her voice had an edge of determination to it now. &lt;Many methods I have collected for this. Old fairytales, lullabies, meditation mantras… a boring academic recitation, maybe? Tell me which you like to start with. I will wager sleep comes again within ten minutes.&gt;</p>
<p>“Oh, do you?” The thought of slow, yawn-laced children’s tales made him laugh, genuinely laugh, and somehow that was just enough to overcome the desire to drink his senses numb. This wasn’t something to be only half cognizant of. He carefully tipped the glass over the bottle and poured the alcohol into it before stopping it back up with the cork. He left both on the table and rose from his chair. “I won’t bet against the outcome I hope for, though I daresay the challenge is more substantial than you realize.”</p>
<p>&lt;I am certain. You will see.&gt;</p>
<p>“Very well.” Back up the stairs. “Do your worst, then.”</p>
<p>Well, sleep came as predicted within about ten minutes… but not for Vincent. Somewhere after the third yawn—right in the middle of a faux dramatic pause in one of those old Aehops fables—her breathing slowed and deepened to the rhythm of obvious slumber. It was a pleasant sound, so calming to listen to… meditative, in a way. A short rest that would give way in a few hours’ time to another day that they both would see.</p>
<p>This was the thought he at last drifted off to. There were, of course, many things in his life still worth living for… but he would always welcome one more.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Listen guys... there is no denying this year has been a complete cluster F. Even in the best of times modern living is difficult enough for folks to navigate. And now the global pandemic is exacerbating stress, anxiety, and depression for many. People have lost friends and family, their jobs, their businesses, their dreams, and then got thrown into isolation from those they could lean on for support. This is a collective trauma... and it has already driven so many people over the edge.</p>
<p>If you or someone you know is struggling with thoughts of suicide, please reach out to a crisis support center and get help.</p>
<p>National Suicide Prevention Hotline (US): 1-800-273-8255<br/>Crisis Services Canada: 1-833-456-4566 or text 45645<br/><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_suicide_crisis_lines">List of Worldwide Crisis Lines</a></p>
<p>I don't know you, but I hope you're okay. I hope you're maintaining your health and you're happy. I hope you have something to look forward to. I hope you know how important you are. I hope you know how irreplaceable you are. So many people forget that when they find themselves low, in overwhelming sadness, desperate. They make a horrible choice. They choose to give up. If you're thinking of giving up, please don't. Please don't give up. You are loved. Reach out and say something. Get help. Keep trying. </p>
<p>Please stay safe, everyone.<br/>&lt;3 Pandora</p></blockquote></div></div>
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